every turn will be safe with me
by ausllydawmoon
Summary: don't be afraid, afraid to fall. you know i'll catch you through it all/Or where he plays high school hockey and she's a homeschooled ballerina with a frustratingly busy schedule, but he'll be damned if he doesn't make it work. Auslly. One shot.


The first time he sees her, he's pretty sure it's fate. He's walking to his car after hockey practice, when all of a sudden he hears yelling from outside the dance studio next door to the ice rink. He looks over and sees a girl on the phone, marching down the stairs leading to the parking lot. She's wearing a black leotard and pale pink tights with athletic shorts over them—the staple outfit of a ballet dancer, as he's learned from talking to every other dancer that walks out of that studio. Her tights are even those special ones with holes at the bottom so when she isn't dancing, she can roll them up over her ankles and wear sandals.

He wonders how he's never seen her before; he thought he already knew every girl at that studio either from school or just seeing them entering or leaving the studio at the same time he started or left hockey practice. But this girl is definitely new.

"He sent me home," he hears her say as she gets closer to him. She pauses, adjusting the huge duffel bag she's carrying, probably full of all her dance equipment. "I don't know, Mom," the girl sighs. "You know Nikos. He thinks I need to take it easy a little longer because _apparently _my ankle still needs time to heal, even if I don't feel any pain." She unzips her bag and pulls out car keys, unlocking the little red VW bug parked across the aisle from his car. "Yeah, well, I disagree," she snaps after her mother says something. "I'm sorry," she says immediately after. "I'm just antsy, is all. I wanna get back in there."

A few more seconds pass and she hangs up the phone, before opening the passenger side door of her car and shoving her dance bag on the seat. When she starts turning away, though, she must bump the still-unzipped bag or something because it falls to the ground, its contents spilling out. She groans and buries her face in her hands.

It takes him a second to register it, but then he rushes over to her, setting his own equipment bag on the ground and kneeling to help collect her things.

"Thank you," she says quietly, as she carefully starts placing the items he hands her inside the bag. She takes a long swig from her water bottle before putting it away too.

"Rough day?" he asks sympathetically, zipping up her bag and handing it to her when they've finished cleaning up and stand again.

"No," she replies, shaking her head quickly. "My dance teacher just made me mad, is all."

"I couldn't help but overhear," he says sheepishly, bending to pick up his own bag off the ground. "Doesn't he just wanna make sure your injury doesn't get worse?"

"Okay, eavesdropper," she says, but she smiles a little. "Yeah, he does. I'm just itching to dance again after a week of nothing."

"You only took a week off?"

"Only because the doctor made me." She rolls her eyes, apparently not registering that his surprise is at how _little_ time she rested. "I guess I should be happy I get to do anything. Originally, I was supposed to take two weeks off, but the doctor said that if I wasn't feeling pain, I could do half my classes for a week after my break to ease back into it. I just thought that since it's Friday, it'd be close enough."

"Oh," Austin says. "Well, I'm sure you'll be back to full-time before you know it." He pauses, then says, "Hey, how come I've never seen you before? Do you go to Marino?"

She tilts her head, her eyebrows knit together. A part of him wonders if she's too top heavy with that ballet bun on top of her head and she might fall over. She snaps him out of it by saying, "I mean, I guess technically. But I do online. It's probably why we've never met."

"You do online school?" he asks. "Why?"

"I don't have time for normal school," she replies. "I dance five hours a day, six days a week, and that's only time at the studio. I also stretch, condition, and do some practice at home, and it also doesn't include competitions and private lessons."

His mouth hangs open. "You dance thirty-plus hours a week?" he asks incredulously. "I thought ten hours of hockey a week was a lot. How do you do it?"

"Online school," she says again, as if it's obvious. Then she checks her phone. "Speaking of which, I should go. If I'm not gonna dance, I gotta use this time to get ahead in my classes. Thanks again for helping me."

He moves to the side so she can pass him to walk to the driver's side of her car. He follows, swallowing.

"No problem," he replies as she gets in the car. "I'm Austin, by the way."

She smiles at him, grabbing the inside door handle. "Nice meeting you, Austin. I'm Ally."

With that, she waves with her free hand and shuts the car door. He gives her a small smile and waves back as she pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.

"Should've gotten her number," he mutters to himself as he walks back to his car. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course you met her after practice, too, when you're all gross and sweaty. Great."

He thinks about her for the rest of the night. He isn't sure what it is about her, but _something _just makes her unforgettable. She's really pretty, and petite, but other dancers he knows are pretty and petite. She's got brown hair and brown eyes, which are probably the least memorable hair and eye colors, but for some reason he remembers everything about her vividly, from the wispy flyaways that had come undone from her bun and fell in her face and around her ears to the way those rich, dark eyes seemed to glow with a light coming from deep within her.

That light stays bright in his memory until the next time he sees her, when he shows up a little early for hockey practice on Monday in the hopes that he'll run into her in the parking lot again. He does.

"Hey, Ally!" he says, catching up to her as she walks through the parking lot.

She looks over at him, this time wearing just a sports bra and athletic shorts, her hair tied in a high ponytail with a bright yellow scrunchie. She smiles as she shifts her dance bag to her other shoulder so it isn't between them.

"Hey," she replies. "Austin, right?"

He nods. "I, uh, realized I never got your number the other day. I thought maybe we could hang out sometime."

"I wish I could," she says with a sigh. "I don't really have time for much of a social life."

He offers his phone to her and raises his eyebrows. "Just in case?"

She smiles again and takes it, handing her phone to him in return. A few beats of silence pass as they put their numbers in each other's phones.

"If I ever catch a free moment, I'll make sure to let you know," she promises as they climb the stairs out of the parking lot and stop between their two destinations. "And if not, you still know where to find me." She jabs a thumb at the dance studio behind her, grinning.

He tilts his head. "Don't you wish you had more time to yourself? To hang out with friends and do normal teenager stuff?"

"I hang out with my friends at dance," she says with a shrug, that bright smile still on her face. "And I love it."

"Right." He clears his throat. "Well, good luck, then. Don't get hurt again."

She laughs a little. "Hey, no pain, no gain."

He smiles. "That's true. I'll see you later, Ally."

"Bye, Austin!" She starts walking to the studio, but turns and waves over her shoulder before going inside.

He sighs, and his best friend Dez walks up behind him a few seconds later.

"Who was that?" he asks.

"Ally," Austin replies. "Basically a pro dancer. Online school."

"Is that why you showed up to practice this early?"

"You're here early, too," Austin says, turning to look at Dez.

"Yeah, but I'm always here early. You aren't."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Austin rolls his eyes and walks inside their building. Dez's footsteps echo behind him all the way to the locker room.

"Are you gonna ask her out?" Dez finally asks him.

"I kinda did. She kinda rejected me."

"Ouch."

"It's just because she doesn't have time."

"Right. Keep telling yourself that."

"I got her number."

"Did you now?"

"Shut up, Dez."

* * *

When she calls him a few weeks later, he has to do a double take to make sure the caller ID is really her. They've talked since he got her number, both in person outside their respective practices and over text, but this is the first time she's ever called him at such a random time on a Sunday afternoon.

"Hi!" she says cheerfully when he answers the phone. She sounds out of breath.

"Hey," he says, trying not to let his confusion seep into his voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" she replies. "We just got out for lunch. I have a competition tonight downtown, and I usually go out with my team afterwards, but I thought maybe you and I could hang out instead."

He hesitates. "I wouldn't wanna take you away from your team…" _Except I absolutely would if it meant we'd finally get to go on a date._

"Hey, I see them every single day for hours on end. Plus, when I tell them I'm hanging out with a _boy _they'll insist I ditch them."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

"Where's your competition? I wanna see if you're the prima ballerina you say you are."

"You can just take my word for it," she says. "Trust me, you don't wanna come to a dance competition. They're super long and boring for anyone who isn't super into dance, and even for people who are. And I'll only be onstage for two pieces."

"C'mon, I wanna come," he says.

She sighs. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. I actually have a ticket that my mom bought before she realized she couldn't come, so I can just give it to you when you get here."

"Perfect." He grins. "When does it start?"

"Seven."

"Gotcha. And then dinner afterwards?"

"We actually all eat dinner together before as kind of a ritual. Ice cream?"

"Even better."

The next few hours before it's time to leave are agonizing, but he can't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

When he finally finds the stage door, she's leaning against the wall next to it, on her phone. She's in a plain, silky, cream-colored dress that hems just above her knees, and her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, but it's clipped away from her face. She has heavy makeup on, but other than that she looks so _normal _it throws him off for a second. He's never seen her with her hair down, and he's only ever seen her in her ballet clothes or a sports bra and spandex. Finally, he clears his throat and she looks up at him with a grin.

"Hey!" she exclaims excitedly, throwing her arms around him for a hug. He hugs her back, and expects makeup all over his shirt when they pull away. But she must be pretty experienced, because she manages to keep her makeup intact and his shirt clean. "Thanks for coming."

"Even though you almost begged me not to?" he teases.

"That's not true! I just didn't want you to feel obligated to since I invited you out afterwards. Dance competitions can be torture for some people."

He shakes his head, smiling at her. "I'm gonna be a dance _expert _by the time the night is over."

She laughs a little. "I'm sure you will." Then she hands over his ticket. "We'll talk more later, but I gotta get back inside. Meet me out here after awards?"

"It's a date," he says with a nod.

Her eyes go wide and her face goes red, and he realizes he might've just made a mistake. He opens his mouth to backtrack, but she turns and rushes back inside before he can say anything.

He kicks himself during the entire competition. He only pays attention when Ally is onstage, but other than that he just replays that terribly awkward moment in his mind so many times it's probably burned there forever.

But when Ally _is _dancing, he manages to forget everything else for those beautiful few minutes. She really is as amazing as he assumed she was: in her first piece, which isn't ballet, she conveys more emotion through a dance he knows nothing about than he thinks he's ever felt in real life; when she does ballet, he's pretty sure she's simply floating across the stage like some graceful fairy princess.

After the competition, as he files out with the crowd, he manages to catch a glimpse of her sitting on the stage with the rest of the dancers from her studio as the award ceremony begins. He sees a table in the lobby selling flowers, and he jumps in line to buy her a bouquet of roses like the other people are doing for the dancers they're supporting.

When she finally comes out the stage door, she's still in her ballet clothes—except she swapped her ballet shoes and the big tutu she wore during the competition for athletic shorts and sneakers—and she's talking to a couple of her friends. But when she sees him, she grins and walks over.

"You didn't die of boredom!" she laughs, giving him another hug.

When they pull away, he hands her the flowers. "You were awesome!" he exclaims. "I don't know anything about dance, but I _know _you were awesome!"

She giggles again. "Thank you," she says. "So much for becoming a dance expert." He shrugs and grins as she tells him about the award ceremony. She says a bunch of things about titles and medals that he doesn't quite understand but he's pretty sure it means she won and she's amazing, which he already knew.

"Congratulations!" he says.

"Thanks," she says again. "And hey, I'm sorry about earlier." He opens his mouth to tell her not to worry about it, but she keeps talking before he can get a word in. "It's just—I barely have time to hang out with any _friends _outside of dance, much less go on dates. Plus, I've never even been on a date before and I don't think I'd be very good at it and the whole idea kinda freaks me out, so when you said it, I…well, freaked out. And it isn't your fault or anything, I just was caught off guard I guess and reacted in quite possibly the _worst _possible way." She laughs a little at her own rambling and then looks up at him. "So…could we maybe just get ice cream as friends?"

"Absolutely," he says immediately. "Sorry I freaked you out, Ally. But I would be _honored _to get ice cream with you as friends." He places a hand over his heart to prove his point.

She smiles slightly, looking relieved. "You're not mad?"

He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and nudging her with an elbow. "Of course I'm not mad. I'm just happy to be hanging out with you."

Her smile widens, and she looks at him as if she can't believe it. But the look quickly passes as her face lights up at the thought of dessert.

"In that case, Scoop There It Is, here we come!" She loops her arm through his and drags him down the sidewalk and around the corner to a little ice cream parlor he's never seen before.

"This place is cute," he says when they walk inside. The walls are painted a bright, cheery yellow, and it has the feel of a 1950s soda fountain, complete with wooden booths, a pink-and-white checkered floor, and a bar counter with bright pink stools in the back. Ally leads him to the counter, where a sweet-looking old woman waits at the register. He quickly scans the menu mounted on the wall.

"What can I get you, dears?" she asks.

Ally grins at her. "Hi! Can I get a chocolate cake batter milkshake please?"

"Of course, sweetie. And for you?" The woman looks at Austin.

"Hmm," he muses, still trying to read through the long menu. "I'll get…a hot fudge sundae, please. With extra whipped cream."

Before Ally can pay for her ice cream, Austin pays for both of them. She looks up at him with her eyebrows knit together as the woman swipes his card, but he just smiles and shrugs.

"Flowers and paying for me?" she asks as they walk to a table and sit down.

"The flowers are because you killed it at the competition, and I like paying for other people," he responds. "I'm not trying to force this into a date or anything, I promise."

"Well, you're very sweet," Ally says, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

He smiles at her, mirroring her movement. "Thanks."

* * *

After a few weeks, they've entered into a sort of routine. They text almost constantly—admittedly, even when he's in class (which she tells him he shouldn't do in all capital letters, but then proceeds to continue responding to his texts with the same enthusiasm)—and he's become her ride to and from practice. At first, it took a bit of convincing; he invited her to a late lunch when he got out of school early one day and she lamented that she wouldn't have time in between doing school and practice, so he offered to bring it to her. She ate in the car as he drove them to practice, and he ate while he was waiting for hockey practice to start.

And so now, experienced, he brings all his homework and manages to get all of it done every night during the three hours in between the end of his practice and the end of hers, when he sits in the dance studio lobby to wait for her. This being despite the fact that he gets distracted watching her practice through the viewing window and making funny faces at her when they make eye contact in the mirror.

On Wednesdays, she has a class she calls "partnering," and as Mature and Cool and Chill and Totally Not Jealous At All Ever as he is, he can't help but feeling a little pang in his heart every time she dances with the tall, graceful, dark-haired boy in tights who always seems to hold her a bit too tight.

"I thought your dance friends were shocked you were hanging out with a boy," he says one night after that class as they walk out the door. "Seems like you hang out with boys at least once a week."

"That's different. Those boys are like family, you know? We've all grown up dancing together. I mean, Jackson and Amelia are dating, but he's had a crush on her since we were kids and—" Ally cuts herself off, shaking her head. "Hanging out with them isn't the same as hanging out with _a_ _boy_, you know? We're all forced to be friends and hang out through dance. But _you _sit in an uncomfortable chair in the lobby of a dance studio for three hours just to drive me home." She bumps her hip with his, and he hates the heat he feels rising to his cheeks. "Plus, they don't know you as well as they know the guys from dance, so they're infinitely more curious."

"Well, hopefully one day I get their stamp of approval," he teases.

"You already have it."

"I do?"

"You sit in an uncomfortable chair in the lobby of a dance studio for three hours just to drive me home," she repeats. "Of course you do."

He smiles a little. "I'm glad." He opens the passenger side door of his car for her and she gets in.

"Me, too," she says before he closes the door.

He doesn't speak up again until they're pulling out of the parking lot. "So, hey. I have hockey games on Sunday nights starting next week, and I was thinking maybe you could come to one…? If you wanted to, I mean."

She sighs. "I want to. I really, really do. But I have competitions Sunday nights."

"Oh." He clears his throat, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels. "Right. Duh."

"I really wish I could—"

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says, shooting her a quick glance and a reassuring smile. "Those medals and titles aren't gonna win themselves."

He sees her smile a little and nod in his peripheral, but she seems off now. She messes with the strings on the jacket she's wearing over her ballet clothes and doesn't say anything for the rest of the drive. He's tempted to start a conversation again, but now she really doesn't seem in the mood, and he doesn't her to feel worse.

When he stops in front of her house and looks over at her, her head snaps up as if she's coming out of a trance. "Oh. We're here," she says.

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

She looks up at him and smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Never better."

He debates calling her out on her lie or letting it go, but she doesn't give him a chance to make the choice. She kisses his cheek, says goodbye, and gets out of the car. He smiles a little—she's never kissed his cheek before—and then sighs as he watches her walk to the front door of her house. She turns and gives him a small wave, like she does every night, and walks inside.

He hits his head lightly on the steering wheel a few times in frustration at himself before driving home.

When she texts him on Saturday night to ask what time his game starts tomorrow, he gets excited. But when he asks if she might be able to come, she says no, and his heart plummets a little. Still, she says she'll have about an hour for lunch and she'd really like to see him and wish him luck in person, but she can't leave the theater (something about the studio hosting and last-minute rehearsals and other stuff he doesn't really understand). So of course he agrees to come see her there, because he'll take any time he gets to spend with her.

That's how he finds himself locked outside the Clearwater Theater, peeking in through the glass doors like some sort of creeper to see if there's anyone who can let him in.

"Austin!" he hears from his left. He turns, and she's giggling and waving at him from a different doorway. He smiles and walks to meet her.

"Hey," he says. "I, uh, didn't know that's where I was supposed to come in."

"Clearly," she teases, but she pulls him inside quickly. "I have a surprise for you."

He knits his eyebrows together. "A surprise?"

"Mmhm. This way." She takes his hand and leads him through a maze of hallways, passing a bunch of closed doors and people talking into headsets.

When they walk through another door, they're in a big, dark area, and there's equipment everywhere. He isn't sure what the equipment is for—probably the stage—but he has to make a concentrated effort not to trip or run into anything as Ally pulls him along, graceful as ever and unbothered by all the obstacles.

Finally, they approach a dark blue curtain, and she takes a breath before facing him. He looks at her, knitting his eyebrows again.

"I feel really bad about not being able to come to your games or practices or anything and never being able to hang out."

He shakes his head quickly. "Ally, please don't feel bad. I know you're busy with dance and school and stuff—"

"No, I know," she says. "I just…wanted to do something. To make sure you know how much I appreciate you and like hanging out with you. So…" She pulls the curtain aside a little (it must be heavy) and gestures for him to walk through it. "Surprise," she says from next to him as he takes in the scene

It isn't much, just a little picnic set up on the stage, but he grins wider than he ever has in his life. When he looks down at her and she sees him smiling, she smiles too.

"You did this for me?" he asks her.

"Well, yeah."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, um, could we eat first and talk later? I've been dancing all morning."

"Right," he says quickly. "Let's get some food in you."

They sit on the blanket and eat the sandwiches and fruit and vegetables she brought and talk and laugh and it's _perfect_. When they're almost done eating, Ally suddenly perks up.

"You okay?" he asks her.

"Yeah," she replies. Then she smiles softly. "This is the song I first learned to waltz to."

He strains his ears and hears the faint music playing from the speakers above the stage, but he only catches bits and pieces of words and music, not enough to recognize the song.

"When was that?" he asks her.

"I think I was maybe five. My parents were watching their wedding video, and their first dance was a waltz. I started copying what they were doing, so they stopped the video, put on this song, and taught me how to do it for real."

He smiles at the light twinkling in her dark eyes. "I wish I knew how to waltz," he says.

She looks at him, knitting her eyebrows together. "You don't know how?"

"I don't think that's a normal thing people who aren't the best dancer in the world learn."

She laughs a little. "Right. Well, I could teach you."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah, that'd be a terrible idea. I'm not graceful enough."

"Sure you are. You have to be in order to ice skate. Did you know that a lot of times coaches will make football players and hockey players do ballet to help their balance and agility?"

"Huh. I did not know that."

"C'mon," she says, popping their last grape in her mouth and standing up. "It'll be fun."

He gives her a wary look, but he takes her outstretched hand and stands up too. "If I injure you before your competition tonight, that's on you."

She laughs and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket. After a few taps, _Can't Help Falling in Love _by Elvis Presley is playing through her phone's speaker. She replaces her phone in her pocket and takes his hands.

"Okay," she says. "So you're gonna put your right hand here—" she places his right hand on her back—"and you're gonna hold my right with your left." She maneuvers his hand with hers until he's apparently holding her hand the right way. She places her free hand on his shoulder. "And then you're gonna step forward with your left leg while I step back with my right." He looks down at their feet and does it. "And then you're gonna step your right leg to the right and then bring your feet together."

He knits his eyebrows. "Huh?"

She giggles a little. "Just try to do it with me." She does the step, and he tries to mirror her foot movements. "Okay, not bad. Now you're gonna step back with your right, and then left with your left and feet together. Basically the opposite of what you just did." He tries his best, furrowing his brow in concentration as he watches their feet. "You got it," she says with a smile.

"I guess it's not as hard as I thought," he says, still watching their feet as they continue dancing.

"Or you just have a great teacher."

"Definitely that, too."

"Okay, and then, if you're feeling spicy, you can twirl me." She shows him in slow motion how to let go of her back and lift her right hand so she can twirl under their arms, and then almost instinctively he pulls her back into him. "Just like that," she says with a grin.

"I dunno, that might be a little too spicy for me," he admits, unable to stop himself from smiling back down at her.

"You're just a simple box step kinda guy? No spicing it up? I can respect that."

"Maybe sometimes," he says, attempting to twirl her again. She seems a little surprised, but she smiles more when she faces him again.

"I really am a great teacher."

"Mmhm."

Their steps get smaller and smaller, and by the time the song ends and restarts again on loop, they're just swaying, not even moving their feet anymore. Then she surprises him by moving her hand from his shoulder to his neck, her thumb softly running over his jawline over and over again. He swallows.

"How long until you have to go back?" he asks quietly, immediately hating himself for ruining the moment.

"Twenty minutes," she whispers, letting go of his hand to drape both her arms around his neck.

He wraps his arms loosely around her waist, watching her. Then she steps closer to him and rests her head on his chest. He tightens his arms around her and closes his eyes, resting his chin on top of her head, wondering if she can hear his heart pounding.

They stay like that for a while, just barely swaying enough to call what they're doing 'dancing' as an excuse to hold each other. Then she lifts her head, and he worries that she's about to pull herself out of his arms and say it's already time for her to go back. But she doesn't.

He opens his eyes and watches her, sees the gears turning in her head as she gets lost in thought staring up at him with those big brown eyes.

Then she stands up on her tip toes and kisses him.

He's so surprised that he forgets to close his eyes until she pulls away. He blinks slowly as his brain tries to catch up and figure out what he's supposed to be doing.

"Um…Yeah. Wow," he stammers.

She smiles and bites her lip, her cheeks tinting pink. "I've never kissed anyone before," she admits. "I was trying to wait for you to do it so I could just follow your lead, but…you were taking too long."

"Oh. Um. Sorry."

"It's okay." Her cheeks turn from pink to red. "Was it bad? I'm sorry if it was, I—"

He accidentally interrupts her by bursting out laughing, his brain finally working again. "Ally."

She laughs a little, moving her hands from around his neck to his shoulders. "I just got impatient. And I realized maybe you were _never _gonna kiss me because of what I said about being freaked out by dating and if that was an unintended connection you made in your mind or because maybe you don't even like me, and—" Her eyes go wide. "Oh, God. I don't even know if you like me."

"_Ally_." He leans his forehead against hers gently and closes his eyes as she wraps her arms around his neck again. "I like you. I really, _really _like you."

She exhales in relief. "I like you, too. I promise I'll get better at kissing."

He doesn't risk asking what this means for them, because she didn't say anything about not being freaked out by dating anymore and he really doesn't want to ruin this moment.

"You're not bad at kissing, Ally," he tells her. "You can't be bad at that kind of kiss, anyway."

She pulls away just enough to look up at him. "There's _different _kinds of kissing?"

He laughs a little. "Well, yeah. But you're _fine_. It's not something you have to, like, learn. It's more just gaining experience." He pauses. "That was really your first kiss?"

She nods, cringing a little. "Is that embarrassing?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. And hey, I owe you one for teaching me how to waltz."

Now she giggles. "So in return, you're gonna help me build my kissing resumé?"

"It's a sacrifice I am ready and willing to make."

She laughs again, and he grins at her, feeling weightless. He's about to kiss her again, but the music on her phone stops and an alarm goes off. Her smile immediately fades as she pulls out her phone to stop the alarm.

"I have to be back in five minutes."

He frowns a little, but he helps her fold up the picnic blanket and put it in the basket.

"Walk me out?" he asks. "Because if you don't, I will seriously never find my way out of here."

She laughs and takes his hand, this time intertwining their fingers, and leads him back through the maze to the side door he came in through.

"Hey," he says when she releases his hand. "You're gonna kill it tonight. You're gonna win all the awards. Even the ones you aren't competing for."

She laughs. "Thanks. Good luck at your game. You're gonna kill it too. Try not to lose any teeth or anything."

Now he laughs. "Thanks, Ally. Maybe we could hang out later if your competition doesn't end too late?"

She grins at him. "Only if you win."

* * *

They lose. Terribly.

He's actually glad she couldn't come to the game, because they lost so bad it's embarrassing. He's so frustrated he doesn't unclench his jaw until he sits down to eat dinner after he's done showering. His parents try to tell him at least _he _did a good job, but that doesn't help. So he just fumes in his room and tries to do some homework.

But an hour later, he gets a text from Ally, and he remembers everything that happened today, and his anger dissipates.

He finds himself on her couch, eating her leftover ice cream from when she went out with her team after the competition, listening to her try to explain all the awards she won. He doesn't even remember _why _he was so mad earlier now that he's sitting here, watching her radiate sunlight long after the sun has gone down, and hearing her talk about all her accomplishments.

"See? I told you you'd kill it."

"What about you?" she asks. "Did you win?"

He shakes his head. "They wiped the floor with us."

"Oh. Then you have to leave."

He frowns. "What?"

"I said we could only hang out if you won."

After a few seconds of him trying to process what she's saying, she starts giggling.

"Austin. I'm _kidding_."

"Oh. Right. I knew that." He shoves another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?" she asks. "I know it's a school night, but my dad works nights and my mom's out of town and I want you to be stuck here for as long as possible."

He laughs. "I'll stay as long as you want me, Ally."

She grins at him as he scoops out the last bite of ice cream and eats it off the spoon, before putting the spoon in the ice cream cup and setting it on the coffee table in front of them. "For real?" she asks.

"Until you decide you wanna sleep and kick me out, I'm all yours."

She bites her lip. "Could you maybe…spend the night? I really don't wanna sleep here alone."

He raises his eyebrows at her.

"I mean sleeping," she clarifies, her cheeks turning bright red. "Just sleeping."

"I know what you meant," he tells her. "I was just a little surprised. Yeah, of course I'll stay with you."

She smiles, looking relieved. "Thank you."

"Of course, Ally. So, what movie were we thinking?"

She grins at him. "Glad you asked." She grabs the remote and turns on the TV, where _Anastasia_ is already queued up. "Have you ever seen this movie?" she asks.

"Not in years," he says.

She smiles. "It's one of my favorites."

He smiles too, and she plays the movie. She moves in close to his side, and he drapes an arm over the back of the couch behind her, and he tries not to think about how he still has no idea what they are. Today sure _felt _like a date, and they like each other, and now they're being all snuggly and he's sleeping over, but she doesn't seem to like the idea of dating and she says she doesn't have time for a boyfriend anyway, and he doesn't want to put her in an uncomfortable position by asking.

So instead of worrying about that, he just enjoys being with her, being _close _to her, and tries to memorize the feeling of her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest and the way she tilts her face into his neck every once in a while and presses her smiling lips against the sensitive spot right under his jaw—not quite a kiss, but not _not _a kiss—and then giggles softly when he shivers every time. And then, every time, she nuzzles her nose against that same soft spot on his neck before turning to face the movie again and somehow—_somehow_—managing to move even closer to him.

Eventually, he saves her the trouble and just pulls her onto his lap and wraps both arms around her. She seems surprised initially, even though she was practically on his lap already, and he worries that maybe this is too much for her. But then she turns sideways and buries her face in his neck again. He can still feel the smile on her lips against his neck, and he loves every second of it.

Still, he says quietly, "You're not even watching the movie, Ally." He loves even just saying her _name_ with her snuggled against him like this.

"I've seen it a million times," she whispers, and her breath on his neck makes him shiver, which makes her do that cute little giggle again.

"What are you _doing_?" he asks, though he knows she can hear the dopey grin in his voice.

"Enjoying the moment. I've never cuddled with a boy before. I quite like it."

Now he laughs, and he feels her smile grow. "I can tell," he says, tightening his arms around her.

"Do _you _like it?"

"You know I do," he teases, turning his head a little to press a kiss to her forehead. Then he turns to face the movie again, and she nuzzles her face back in his neck, apparently her new favorite thing to do. "I'd live in this moment forever, if I could."

"Me, too."

* * *

Originally, the plan was for him to sleep on the couch. But after their second movie, she wakes him up (he may have dozed off a little) and says that she cannot sleep knowing he's here if it isn't in his arms.

He just about melts on the spot.

So then she drags him, still half asleep, to her room and stops in front of her bed. He's so tired he can hardly think, so he barely hesitates before pulling the covers back and starfish-ing on the bed, closing his eyes.

"Do what you gotta do," he says.

She crawls in next to him and shifts until she's comfortable and then turns the light on the nightstand off before pulling the covers up over them.

She decides her most comfortable position is half on top of him, with her leg draped over his, her hand on his chest, and her face in his neck. And he decides that _this _is the moment he'd like to live in forever, please and thank you.

"Can you even breathe?" he whispers in the darkness, resting the hand closest to her on her lower back and his other hand on her arm, drawing slow circles on her skin with his thumb.

"Mmhm. Goodnight, Austin."

"Goodnight, Ally."

When his alarm goes off at six the next morning, he reaches over her and turns it off immediately, without moving anything else. Mostly because he doesn't want to wake her, but also because he's so comfortable he doesn't want to move. She's the littlest little spoon ever, and he's got her to fit almost perfectly against him. Plus, their legs are all tangled up, and despite her dancer flexibility, he's worried that moving one of his legs wrong might bend hers out of shape or something.

He drapes his arm back over her and buries his nose in her hair, wondering if maybe he just shouldn't go to school today. But he knows she would feel guilty if he missed school just to be with her, so he takes a deep breath and then tries to disentangle himself from her and climb out of bed without disturbing her.

She must be exhausted, because she doesn't even shift a little bit.

He yawns and puts his shoes on and grabs his keys and wallet before kissing her cheek. "Ally, I gotta go to school."

"Thanks for staying," she says, still half asleep and not even opening her eyes.

"Anytime."

"Do you want me to walk you out?"

He smiles a little. "No, just go back to sleep."

He sees her lips curl into a small smile, and he kisses her forehead before standing up and leaving as quietly as possible.

* * *

By the time a month goes by, they're spending almost all their time together. They've met each other's parents, and he's gotten in the habit of driving to her house right after school to spend a little time together before he drives them to their respective practices.

He also sleeps over most weekends, because apparently her parents don't mind as long as it's under their roof where they can threaten surprise check-ins to make sure they're really just sleeping. But her parents seem to really like him, both from what he's picked up and from what she's told him. And his parents adore her, so they have no problem with him not sleeping at home on weekends. But they're pretty adamant about him not sleeping there on school nights unless her parents aren't there and she'd be alone otherwise, which is fair. Although he's pretty sure her parents don't know he does that.

And still, even with all this, he still doesn't know what they are. Obviously they're _something_, but he doesn't know if he can call her his girlfriend or not. And frankly, he still isn't sure he wants to ask. As far as he knows, she's never called him her boyfriend, to her parents or her friends or otherwise, and that isn't a good sign.

Besides, he likes where they're at right now, and he doesn't want her to feel pressured into labeling something that she still says feels so "new and weird—but, like, good weird."

He texts her wishing her good luck in her competition before putting his phone in his locker as he and his teammates get ready for their game against their rival school. It isn't a super important game—next week's game will decide whether they make the playoffs—but they still treat it like it is. Marino has lost for the past five years, and they all _refuse _to let there be a sixth.

"You ready, buddy?" Dez asks, walking up to him and patting his back. "Get your head in the game."

"I am, I am," he promises. "I was just wishing her good luck tonight." He knows Dez knows exactly who he was just texting.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you have a super hot prima ballerina girlfriend," Dez says, rolling his eyes. But Austin knows he's teasing.

"I actually don't know if she's my girlfriend or not."

Dez raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Well, she's never introduced me as her boyfriend, and she said a while ago that the thought of dating freaks her out, so I didn't wanna ruin what we do have by asking and making her feel pressured."

"You spend all your time together. You sleep at her house. You've met each other's parents. You do that gross gooey smile at each other and your pupils turn into hearts when you see each other. Seems like your girlfriend to me."

"I mean, she kinda is, in everything but name, you know? I just don't think she's ready to label it."

"And you're okay with that?" Dez asks incredulously.

"Of course I_ want _to call her my girlfriend, but if she isn't ready for that yet then yeah, I'm okay with it. It's not like it's one of those situations where she might be seeing other people or anything, you know? Something about it just freaks her out, and I think she's worried about feeling guilty for not being able to see me much because of dance. I tell her it's fine every time and she knows I really don't mind, but it's just in her head."

"I guess I get that," Dez says.

"I'm just glad she likes me. I'll take anything and everything I can get."

"You seem to see her plenty, though."

"Honestly, most of the time we're together, we spend sleeping. Just because the longest we're together is, y'know, when I sleep there."

"Still together."

"Yeah, but we don't get to just hang out all that much. Our only sort-of date was at one of the theaters she was competing at during her hour lunch break. I get why actually having an official boyfriend would stress her out a little."

"I mean, I get it. It just kinda sucks for you."

"I don't mind. Like, at all."

"Well, then, I guess it really doesn't matter what I think. As long as you're happy."

"I am."

Dez smiles. "I know you are."

When the team skates onto the rink at the beginning of the game, Austin almost slips and falls over. Not because of anything wrong with his skating, but because of what he sees in the stands.

In the very back, he sees a group of girls, and one very familiar brunette is holding a sign that says _Go Austin! _and is cheering her head off. His eyes go wide, and he feels the grin that he knows she can't see behind his helmet, but he waves directly at her, and she waves back. He swears he can hear her laugh even among the cheers of the rest of the (albeit kind of small) crowd.

At halftime, they're losing, but he almost doesn't care. He can't get to the locker room fast enough to call her.

"Hi," she says with a giggle when she answers the phone.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, grinning and still out of breath from playing.

"The theater flooded and the competition tonight got canceled," she says. "Which is sad, but I think it was fate." He laughs, still unable to believe she's actually here. "I came with some dance friends who go to Marino," she continues. "Trish and Piper," she adds, seeming to suddenly remember that he knows all her dance friends now.

"Did they say I'm the best on the team?" he asks.

"They did, actually," Ally replies. He can hear the smile in her voice, and he grins just thinking about it. "You're doing great out there!"

"Even though we're losing?"

"Hey, your team would be losing a whole lot worse if they didn't have you."

"Thanks, Ally."

"Just telling the truth," she replies. "Anyway, I gotta go because we're in line at the concession stand and we're next. But I'll talk to you after the game, okay? You're doing awesome, 'kay, love you, bye," she says quickly before hanging up the phone. They must've made it to the front as she was talking.

It takes him a full sixty seconds to register that she just said she loved him. _'Kay, love you, bye_, just like that. That easy.

The room starts spinning, and he sits down on the bench, feeling the gooey smile on his face that Dez was complaining about.

"What'd she say?" Dez asks him.

"She said she loves me."

"She _what_?"

He explains the end of their conversation. "I don't know if she meant it like that or not, but…"

"And you _still _aren't sure if she's your girlfriend or not?"

He shakes his head, still replaying the words coming out of her mouth.

It takes him until they're called back out for the second half to shake himself out of his daze. And he isn't one of those people to say that a girl's love made him play better, but they end up coming back and winning the game, so make of that what you will.

He trips over himself changing as fast as he can in the locker room, and he almost runs smack into her in the lobby when he's trying to find her.

"There you are!" he says breathlessly, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"Ew, you're all sweaty," she says, but she doesn't seem to mind as she hugs him back.

Still, he has to retort, "Hey, you don't hear me complaining when you're trying to make out in the parking lot after dance when _you're _all sweaty."

"You _won_!" she exclaims when they pull away, ignoring his comment. "I knew you would! You were _amazing_! I'm so proud of you!"

He laughs at how she's practically bouncing up and down with excitement, those eyes as bright as ever, and then he pulls her into a kiss as a thank you.

It isn't the kiss he would've liked, but there are people around, and he isn't big on PDA like that. He's about to open his mouth to bring up the whole '_love you_' thing, but she speaks up first.

"Hey, so I know it's been a little weird and I really appreciate you letting me take my time and stuff but I'm also sorry—"

"Whoa, slow down," he says before she starts rambling. "About what?"

"You know, about us not, like, _officially _dating," she says sheepishly, glancing around at the people filing out of the hockey arena.

"You know I don't mind any of that, Ally. You take your time and do what you need to do. I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."

"I know, and I appreciate that, but it really isn't fair to you."

He knits his eyebrows together. "Are you breaking up with me?"

She mirrors his expression. "No, of course not. I'm trying to ask you to be my boyfriend."

"Oh." He feels a huge weight fall off his shoulders, and his heart starts beating normally again. Then what she just asked really sinks in, and he grins. "I mean, I _guess_," he teases.

"Shut up," she says, smiling too.

He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then pulls her in for another hug. She hugs him tighter than ever. "God, I love you," he says, kissing the top of her head and tightening his grip around her.

"I love you, too," she says quietly, but he knows she means it, and that answers that question.

She drove with her friends, so he drives her home, and even though it's a school night she practically drags him in after her because "We just said I love you and I have a real, actual, labeled boyfriend now and dammit if we don't commemorate it."

His eyebrows shoot up when she says this, and his heart starts pounding when she immediately drags him to her room. He really didn't think she'd jump to this so quickly. Not that he's complaining, but he's just very extremely surprised. He's about to open his mouth to ask if she's sure this is a good idea and to subsequently point out the fact that his wallet with his emergency condom is still in the car, but she speaks first. Again.

"Gimme one sec," she says, pulling out her phone and connecting it to the speaker in her room. When the familiar Elvis Presley song starts playing and she grins and holds out her hand, he is suddenly extremely grateful for her tendency to always speak up before him. "May I have this dance?" she asks is some goofy accent.

"Why, I'd be honored," he replies with a grin, his voice still shaking from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions he just silently went through in the past two minutes.

He waltzes with her like he was born doing it—he's had plenty of practice by now—and when he twirls her, instead of returning to the waltz he pulls her in and kisses her instead. She doesn't seem to mind though, and they sway to the music. He thinks the song is pretty appropriate, because every time he's seen her since he met her, he hasn't been able to help falling more and more in love.

* * *

**whew this took a long ass time to write but i'm p happy w how it turned out. anyway i miss n love u guys a lot!**


End file.
